


Chemistry of a Car Crash

by anthologia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Car Accidents, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthologia/pseuds/anthologia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s words, conversations happening around him. They come to him in a disjointed mess, without context – drunk, hospital, shock, emergency contact. Tim tries to take stock of what he knows. There are police. An ambulance. Paramedics. There’s a blanket around his shoulders. It’s a shock blanket. He is… in shock? His left arm aches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry of a Car Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Partly written for my h/c bingo card and partly for a [picture](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/10668427790) kaciart@tumblr drew a few years ago.

He’s shivering, and it won’t stop. Tim trained in Paris with Rahul Lama, knows so many techniques for controlling his body, but it just won’t listen to him about this one stupid thing anymore. It’s not a great sign for Robin, right? Being able to stay perfectly still seems like such a basic skill for Robin to have.

There’s words, conversations happening around him. They come to him in a disjointed mess, without context – _drunk, hospital, shock, emergency contact._ Tim tries to take stock of what he _knows_. There are police. An ambulance. Paramedics. There’s a blanket around his shoulders. It’s a shock blanket. He is… in shock? His left arm aches.

Someone approaches and tells him, gently, that the number they found for his parents isn’t picking up. Is there anyone else they can call? He takes the phone they give him, his phone, and tries to scroll down the list of names. It’s too difficult; his fingers aren’t working right. They’re shaking. It’s so _stupid_ , because he s _hould_ be able to use a phone, but he just. Can’t. Someone has to help him, provides the fine motor control while he watches the names go by and points to the correct one.

What he knows: he is in shock. There’s a blanket around his shoulders. He’s sitting down. He can’t stop shaking. There was another car. It was in the same lane, coming towards him. Why were they in the same lane? His arm hurts. It’s probably not broken. A paramedic looked at it and they didn’t take him to the hospital, so it’s probably okay. There was another person. Another driver. They put the other person in an ambulance.

Tim stands up, carefully, takes a few wobbling steps towards the police officers. One of them grabs him and steadies him, leads him back to his seat. “The other driver,” Tim says. “Is he. What happened?”

“He’ll be okay, son,” the officer says gently. “Just sit here for now. Okay?”

“But he was in the ambulance,” Tim says, a little desperate because _he’ll be okay_ is not information, it is a lie that is told to calm down someone in shock. Tim is not calm.

“Just sit here,” the officer says, more firmly this time. “There’s someone on the way to pick you up.”

Pick him up. _For what_. He tries to line up the facts again. There was an accident. He was in a car. The other driver was hurt. Someone is coming to get him. Why?

Was the accident his fault?

If the accident was his fault, then it could be someone coming to take him to the precinct. But there are plenty of police officers here. Couldn’t one of them take him? Maybe they’re not ready yet. His shivering still won’t stop, so he pulls the blanket tighter around himself, even though he’s not really that cold.

His left arm hurts.

One of the police officers is running towards him, and he – steels himself. Hopefully they won’t handcuff him. He’s pretty sure it would make his arm hurt worse.

“Tim. _Tim_. Oh god. What happened?” The officer is hugging him. It’s not very professional. Tim thinks – someone should probably talk to him about that.

Tim should cooperate. It will make this easier on everyone. “There was a car. I think – I hit someone?”

“ _God._ Are you okay?” The officer hugs him again, harder, before pulling back. Tim can see his face now. It’s _Dick_ , and he should have noticed earlier. Because. He can’t recognize his own brother?

“He’s clear to go,” one of the paramedics says. “His arm’s pretty badly bruised, but nothing seems to be broken. He needs someone with him, though, and no one was picking up when we tried to call the number in his phone for his dad – “

“Mr. Drake’s out of town. He can stay with me.” Dick pulls Tim upright and wraps an arm around him. That’s good. Tim’s not sure how long his legs will stay standing without support. “C’mon, Tim. Let’s get you home.”

The drive to Dick’s apartment is a mess of hazy memories and confusion. Something hits the windshield at one point – a pebble, maybe? – and Tim flinches so hard that Dick pulls off to the side of the road and wraps him up in a hug again until he’s not shaking quite as bad. He lets Tim hold his arm the rest of the drive home, even though Tim knows he’s gripping too tight and Dick’s trying to drive.

Once they’re at Dick’s place, he leads Tim inside and to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He has to peel Tim’s fingers away from the edges of the blanket before he can get it off him. Tim’s shirt goes next, and Dick sucks in a sharp breath when he sees Tim’s arm. It’s already heavily discolored and slightly swollen.

His hand hovers above the skin, just an inch or two shy of touching him. “We’ll put some ice on that,” Dick says after a moment. That would be a good idea, probably.

“Dick?”

Dick stops what he’s doing to look at Tim. “What is it, little brother?”

“Did I – they took the other driver away.” His throat is dry. He swallows. “Did I – was it my fault? Did I hurt someone?”

“God, _no_.” Dick takes hold of his face, looks him in the eye. “You didn’t do _anything_ wrong. Okay? The other driver’s blood-alcohol level was – high. He should never have been driving. It’s a miracle he didn’t kill _you_.”

“But – “

“No buts. Open-and-shut.” Dick presses a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t blame yourself. Just concentrate on being here for me, okay?”

“I’m here,” Tim repeats, and Dick rewards him with a brief smile before squeezing his uninjured shoulder.

“Good. Stay that way.”

He’s still too clumsy to shower on his own. Dick gets in the shower with him, braces Tim against his side and makes sure he gets all the crash-detritus, the dirt and fear and tiny pieces of glass, washed off. Once they’re dry, Dick grabs an ice pack from the freezer and an extra blanket from his couch before guiding the two of them to his bedroom.

Tim’s not shaking as bad anymore, not since the hot shower, but Dick still wraps the blanket around him after setting the ice pack in place against his bruised arm. Then Dick climbs onto the bed with Tim and wraps his arms around him.

“Hey, Tim,” he says gently. “Just checking in, okay? How’re you feeling?”

“I think…” How does he feel? He’s warm, mostly, except for the one place on his arm where the ice pack is slowly numbing the hurt. He’s clean. He’s… “Tired?”

“Okay. Let’s just get some sleep, then.” Dick’s rubbing slow circles against his unhurt arm. “You’ll probably feel better after you’ve had a chance to rest, anyway.”

Tim sighs and lets his eyes shut. “Thanks.”

Tim feels a gentle pressure at the top of his head, Dick pressing a light kiss to his hair. “Any time, little brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in my fics and want more, I have an account at syntactition.tumblr.com where I have bits of stories that are currently in the works and other ficlets and stories that haven't made their way to AO3.


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